


Camp Chitaqua

by Pineprin137



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Bobby Singer Dies, Camp Chitaqua (Supernatural), Croatoan Virus (Supernatural), Dehydration, Demons, Headaches & Migraines, Heavy Angst, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester's Visions, Sick Sam Winchester, Starvation, Survival, Very Light Destiel, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: Dean's running out of options. With the world overrun by Croatoan zombies and Lucifer closing in, he takes Sam to the only place they may have a chance at surviving: Camp Chitaqua.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Camp Chitaqua... Here We Come

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off of a prompt I received a while ago.   
> "Could you do a Sam migraine fic with Dean comforting him and being all quiet and gentle like when they were kids, but set when Castiel first became human and this is his first time around human sickness? Maybe an[d] AU fic where Sam suddenly has visions again and the after[-]effects cause debilitating pain and nausea/vomiting?"
> 
> Su-Spence, this is for you. I know I changed up Castiel's role a little bit, so I hope that's okay. I *might* try to do a little add-on of when Cas first arrived at the camp, but I can't promise anything.

Camp Chitaqua leaves a lot to be desired, Dean thinks to himself as Baby pulls up to the gates.

When Sam moans from the passenger seat, Dean glances over at him and feels the tight knot of worry in his gut burrow a little deeper. 

In the last few weeks, the shit hit the fan in a huge way. 

Pestilence released the Croatoan virus under the guise of a new flu vaccine so now, the world is crawling with psycho, cannibalistic individuals. 

It’s like a page out of the damn Dawn of the Dead movie, but like, a hundred times bloodier. 

And as if that isn’t enough, Lucifer is steadily closing in on Sam. 

Azazel is raising an army, the demons are getting bolder, and the closer the Devil gets, the worse Sammy’s visions are becoming. They were once just premonitions about the other psychics, but with the world running amok and Lucifer topside, Sam’s seeing all kinds of crazy shit-- about the demons and Hell... even a few from the First Fallen Angel himself. 

Sam barely slept more than an hour a night for the last three weeks and whatever he  _ did _ manage to eat usually ended up in the dingy john of whatever rat-infested hole they camped out in. 

Or, during one particularly bad case involving a vision of Lucifer torturing Dean and Bobby, poor Baby’s interior. 

His paranoia is getting out of control, too-- to the point that Dean isn’t sure what is right anymore. He’s about as bad off as Sam, getting next-to-no sleep and drinking for the record whenever they’re not in the car. 

Dean has to stay by Sam’s side constantly, his brother going nuts if he so much as looks up to find Dean isn’t there. He would scream and loudly curse the Devil. 

Dean found out the hard way two weeks ago when he had the gall to take a leak while Sam slept. 

And because getting something to eat isn’t anywhere near possible right now, Dean’s been living on vending machine crackers and whiskey. Not the best diet to keep up your strength, but after Sam almost got them kicked out of the last motel, he has no choice. 

The brothers spent the last week or so at Bobby’s. Bobby and Dean discussed what the hell to do about Sam and the impending Armageddon, but no matter what plan they came up with or lore book they searched, the answer was the same: They are royally fucked. 

Cas’s grace is fading. 

Dean is running out of safe houses. 

Sam is slowly descending into Lucifer-fueled madness. 

So, the unexpected call from one of Bobby’s old contacts informing him about a new ‘safe haven’ for survivors was kind of like a Godsend. Rufus gave Bobby the supposed location and a gruff, mildly concerned message about how once ‘Bob’ was ready to get off his ass and come join the good fight, that would be the place to go.

Two days after they received the call from Rufus, Dean, Sam, and Bobby had been enjoying a slightly tipsy game of poker when a couple of Lucifer’s most loyal busted in. The demons could have easily snapped Bobby’s neck, but instead, they met Sam and Dean’s eyes as they filled Bobby with lead. 

It killed Dean to bury their surrogate-father in the junkyard, but with Sam getting worse and Lucifer creeping ever closer, they didn’t have time for a proper send-off. 

Sitting beside his sleeping brother, now, Dean fights the tears that want to fall for the man who raised him. 

Sure, his dad showed him how to hunt and taught him how to survive a world crawling with monsters, but Bobby... 

Bobby Singer was so much more than ‘another hunter’ or a glorified ‘babysitter’. 

He taught Dean how a simple hug could fix a broken heart, how to throw a baseball, and who Bo Derek was…

He let Dean and Sam sleep in on the weekends and go out with other kids their age. 

Bobby was  _ there _ . 

He never thrusted some bills in Dean’s hand and ordered him to take care of Sam. He checked in on them, invited them to help him research things for other hunters, and passed down his secret chili recipe to Dean. 

While John ridiculed Sam for wanting to try out for the soccer team, Bobby bought him a soccer ball and a used pair of cleats.

Did he get angry from time to time? Upset and frustrated? Of course. 

But not once had he  _ ever  _ raised his hand to either of them. Instead, he answered every single one of their questions about life, love, and the unknown. 

Bobby Singer was more of a father to him and Sam than John Winchester ever was. 

Steeling himself for whatever happens next, Dean takes a deep breath and urges the Impala forward until her grille is only a few inches from the rusty gate. 

Dean can’t give up. 

Bobby is dead. 

Cas is AWOL. 

The demons are growing bolder with each day and Dean is rapidly running out of allies and options alike.

So, after burying Bobby, he did the only thing he could. He loaded Sam into the Impala and prayed to whichever God was listening that Camp Chitaqua is real and ready to receive two battered, broken, beaten-to-Hell Winchesters. 

Because, right now, Dean is the only one standing between his little brother and the Devil. 


	2. Two Months Later

Dean knocks on the closed bathroom door, well aware of who is on the other side. “Sammy?” he calls out. 

Then quieter, “You okay?” 

It’s a stupid question. He knows Sam isn’t. But what the hell else is he supposed to say? They don’t really cover being Lucifer's vessel or how to handle demonic visions in the Big Brother Handbook. 

Sam opens the door with a groan and immediately closes his eyes against the shitty lighting in the lavatory. 

“No.” 

“C’mon, kiddo, let’s get you to bed.” 

Dean is well-versed in Sam’s particular brand of migraines after living with him for the past few years. 

Now that Sammy’s done chucking up his dinner, he’ll want to sleep. 

Giving a small nod, Sam drapes his arm across Dean’s shoulders so he can assist Sam over to the small five-person cabin they were assigned to shortly after arriving at the camp. 

Two months-- that’s how long they’ve been here. And while several of the Chitaqua’s residents have yet to warm up to the brothers, Dean couldn’t care less. They had clean bunks, semi-hot food, and a working toilet and shower. As far as he is concerned, Camp Chitaqua is the friggin’ Ritz compared to some of the shitholes the Winchesters have lived in. 

The main issue between them and everyone else stems from simple jealousy. Because apparently, even though the world is being overrun by Croatoan zombies and each minute could very well be their last, some people impossibly have the energy to argue about how, since they’ve been at the camp longer, they should have seniority over Sam and Dean. 

But the camp’s ‘leader’, Dirk, sees things differently. 

He doesn’t care if Sam and Dean are liked by the rest of the survivors. Once he learned of their military training and knowledge of all things creepy and/or crawly, he started integrating them into the well-oiled machine that keeps Chitaqua from imploding. 

Dean has quickly become one of the go-to guys regarding weaponry and strategic planning while Sam helps get the camp operations running more smoothly and discusses all things Lucifer with the camp historian. 

The dude creeps Dean out to no end, but he’s proven himself by running to get Dean whenever something is off with Sam, so, as long as Sam’s okay with the guy, Dean tolerates their weird work-relationship. 

Cas even showed up a month ago, looking well worse for the wear, but alive. Dean took out three dicks who wanted to ‘make sure’ Cas wasn’t a demon in disguise, but in the end, Cas was assigned to their cabin. Dean and Sam didn’t need to warn anyone not to fuck with the newcomer, it was understood there would be hell to pay if someone should be stupid enough to cross the brothers. 

But on days like today, when Cas is off trying out some new ‘herb’ or ‘tonic’ from the hippy chicks, the camp residents know to stay away from the Winchesters. Whether it’s a need for information or a reiteration of the upcoming mission to look for supplies, if the Winchesters’ door is shut, you don’t knock. You turn around and go find someone else to bug. 

If the door to the cabin is closed, it’s a sign that Dean is feeling extremely overly-protective of his brother and prone to violence. It’s a warning that Sam is in hellish agony and may lash out unexpectedly. 

Simply, when the residents see the Winchesters’ door shut, they know the drill:  _ Fuck off, or get fucked up.  _

  
  


“Easy…Here we go,” Dean murmurs, lowering Sam onto the dingy mattress. Technically, the bottom bunk is supposed to be Dean’s, but since Sam won’t be able to make it up the six-rung ladder while his head is throbbing sickly, he allows the intrusion. 

And maybe, Dean needs his brother close, on these days, so he can verify for himself that Sam is still here.

Dean pulls off his brother’s boots and jeans then covers Sam up with the thick blanket. He sits down in the chair beside the bed-- his usual spot, but he can’t stop the yawn that escapes as he massages Sam’s throbbing temples.

In truth, he’s not feeling so hot himself. He’s had nightmares the last few nights, so he hasn’t had hardly any shut-eye, today’s dinner was going to be the first hot meal he ate in three days before Sam bolted, and he’s shaking because he hasn’t drunk anything. 

He feels like shit and would really like a day to just sleep, and eat, and fuck-- take a piss, but Sam needs him. 

“How is he?” 

Dean jumps when Cas speaks up behind him. “Jesus, Cas, you scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that, man.” 

“My apologies.” Cas takes a step closer to Dean and places his hand on Dean’s forehead. 

“What the hell?” Dean swats his hand away and almost topples off of his chair. 

“When was the last time you ate? Or slept?” 

“I’m fine,” Dean says, brushing Cas’s concern off along with the sweat on his upper lip. 

Cas shakes his head. “No, Dean, you’re not.” 

Dean turns to him and rolls his eyes. “Cas, stop. Don’t worry about me, alright? I can han--” Lunging from his chair and stumbling outside. Dean bends over the small porch railing to expel what little he managed to eat before Sam’s most recent fit. 

He hacks out a few strings of bile before walking back inside. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he slowly sinks down onto his chair with a hand on his stomach. 

He leans into Cas’s hand when it starts gently massaging the nape of his neck. 

Sam’s still on the bed, unaware of what’s happening around him. And Dean doesn’t fight the tear that lands on his cheek. 

“He’s getting worse…” Dean speaks quietly, but he knows Cas can hear him. “The visions are getting stronger and he barely eats...” 

Recognizing the hunter’s near his breaking point, Cas slips his hand into Dean’s and leads him over to the other set of bunk beds. It’s a tight fit with the two of them on one bed, but Dean’s clinging so tightly to his hand that Cas can’t bear the thought of separating from him. 

Dean’s openly crying now, feeling safe in the former angel’s arms. “I don’t know what to do, Cas… I’m supposed to be this… strong, big brother and I can’t  _ do _ anything to stop it...” Wiping a hand underneath his nose, Dean opens his eyes and looks directly at Cas. 

“We’re losing Cas-- We’re losing… and the world is fucked… and my little brother is dyi--” 

“Shhh…” 

Cas strokes Dean’s hair as he sobs into Cas’s chest, careful to muffle his distress from Sam’s sensitive ears. 


	3. Breaking Point

Sam wakes with a groan. His body aches all over and his head is still throbbing, though it’s not as bad as earlier. 

Slowly peeling his eyes open, his heart jumps into his throat, and he sits up so fast in bed that he smacks his head on the top bunk. 

His pained hiss turns into a loud retch when his stomach turns suddenly and he leans over the floor. Vomit splatters noisily onto the wooden boards as he fights the dizziness that wants to send him tumbling off of the bunk. 

“Here you go, Sam.” 

Sam clings to the bucket as another heave wrenches his exhausted body.  When he’s finished, he glances up to see Cas, not Dean. 

“Where’s Dean?” he asks, frantically searching the room for his missing brother. Clenching his eyes shut, he digs his fingers into his scalp.  _ Please no! Lucifer, I need him! Don’t take my brother! Touch him and I will slaughter you, you son of a bitch!  _

Cas grabs the shaking hunter by his arms and wishes he still had his grace... _ to soothe Sam’s increasing illness, to help Dean… _

“Sam! Stop! He’s right here! Dean’s right here! He’s just asleep-- look!”

“No, ‘m not.” 

Dean licks his bottom lip and swallows hard before he heaves himself out of Cas’s bunk. He’s still a little wobbly thanks to the dehydration and you know,  _ starvation _ , but he manages to crouch down in front of his brother with Cas’s help. 

“Sammy, look at me,” he says, trapping Sam’s hands in his own. “Open your eyes and look at me.” 

Panting, Sam opens his eyes once again. “...Dean?” 

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m here.” Dean cleans off his brother’s chin with his thumb, then tucks his hair behind his ears. “I’m right here.” 

Sam gives him a jerky nod. “'Kay. Yeah, you’re here. You’re...here.” His eyes are still roaming around the room seemingly unable to settle on one thing. 

Dean cups his hand around the side of Sam’s neck, trying to get him to focus. When Sam’s eyes finally focus on him, he asks, “You hungry at all?” 

Sam grimaces and shakes his head. “No.” 

Sighing, Dean exchanges a quick look with Cas before turning back to Sam. “You look exhausted-- think you can catch a few more hours?” 

He nods before grabbing Dean’s shirt and grasping it tightly. “You’ll stay though, right? You won't leave?” 

“I’ll be here.” 

“Kay, yeah, that, uh-- that sounds good. Sleep...for a long time.” 

Dean raises his chin so he can give Sam his best Big Brother look. “I’m going to wake you up in a few hours and then-- you’re going to eat something. Do you understand me, Sam--You're going to eat.” 

“No, Dean--Please, no. I-I don’t want it. It's...gross and I'll just puke it back up and I don't want it. Dean, please. Please don’t make me…” 

Sam’s puppy dog eyes almost do him in, but Cas’s hand on his shoulder gives a small squeeze and Dean stands strong. 

“Sam, you  _ have to eat _ , man. I know-- I know it may not stay down, but Sammy, I need to try for me, okay? You’ve barely eaten anything in the last two weeks and I’ll be damned if I watch you survive visions from fucking  _ Lucifer _ only to starve to death!

I don’t care if Cas has to hold you down on the floor while I shove it in your throat, Sam-- you’re eating!” 

Sam clenches his jaw and turns his head, though his hands still cling onto his brother. “...fine. Can I sleep now?” 

Trying to ignore the ache in his chest when Sam turns away from him, Dean deflates. “Yeah-- yeah, you should… Get some shut-eye.” 

Sam lays down and rolls so he’s facing the wall, dismissing Dean and Cas. 

Dean leans down to kiss the crown of his head. “Okay, you sleep. I have to meet up with Dirk, but Cas will be here, okay?” 

There’s no answer from Sam so they walk outside together. 

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, stroking the hunter’s cheek. 

Dean leans forward to press their lips together in a chaste kiss before he says, “No.” With that, he turns and walks away, heading to the armory. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always welcome! And, if you don't mind waiting, I like to fulfill prompts as well. 
> 
> *For those of you wondering what's going on with my October challenges, well, let's just say that life decided to pile it all on this month. So, while I *do* plan on completing all 31 prompts for each challenge, it probably won't be done until after October. But they are still coming!


End file.
